Everything swells up
inside. You can feel it
pressing, pushing
Against your skin, but you contain it.
You've got that skill.
And you aren't burning;
no tears are falling.
You're breathing.
Counting the stitches in the
knees of your jeans -
one breath for every five.
Deep breaths.
Your lips are chapped -
only took a few seconds.
You're eyes are red;
they aren't wet.
Honest rage and you can't get rid of it.
Don't even know if you want to.

No idea what to do. No idea where to go. I could call a friend, however I don't feel like explaining it. I could go get a haircut, but a rash haircut is usually a bad idea. I could go to the beach, and really that's what I want to do. But, I don't want to be alone. I don't feel like thinking about this.

Maybe I was burning;
I was sweating, I just didn't feel hot.
I can't close my mouth.

I could be a hitwoman right now.
And, I'm not even saying that ridiculously.